When Did We Stop Being Equals?
by Neusha
Summary: They are not Kurt and Blaine anymore. They are empty. They are broken.


"Do you need the car tomorrow?" Kurt said as he was cutting the cucumber in squares for the salad.

Blaine looked up from the book he was reading and watched Kurt with a confused expression on his face. "Why? Do you need it?"

Kurt shrugged his shoulder. "No, well… Just to and from school, I guess." He continued on cutting the tomatoes in slices.

He didn't dare look up. He could feel it. He could feel it radiating from Blaine and he immediately regretted asking. He dropped his gaze tomatoes. He wouldn't –_couldn't_ – look at him.

Like a flick of the switch.

Day. Night.

Light. Dark.

Blaine. And… Whatever Blaine was now.

Blaine got up from where he was sitting on the couch, dropping the book carelessly and striding up to Kurt. His eyes were blazing with a fire lit so suddenly that it made Kurt dizzy thinking about it. Blaine got up right next to him. Kurt flinched but kept his eyes and focus on cutting the tomato. He knew what was coming. His shoulders were tense and he was gripping the knife hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

"_Fucking_ idiot. You know I am picking up my sister and mother tomorrow. What, are we supposed to sit at home all day, just so you can get comfortably to and from school?"

Blaine laughed. Snorted. A dry cackle low in his throat.

"Oh." Yes, _oh._ Kurt had forgotten. Blaine's sister and mother were coming from Ohio to spend a few days with them. They had talked about it the day before. But he had forgotten. He shouldn't have.

Blaine wasn't done.

"Oh? Oh? That's all you have to say? Stop being such a fucking self-absorbed bitch for once, Kurt and try thinking about other people." Before Kurt could open his mouth to reply, Blaine turned on his heels and marched out of the kitchen with a string of curses muttered under his breath.

Kurt sighed and released the knife still in his hand, rolling his shoulders and tilting his head back. He counted backwards from ten. Be calm. He crossed his arms, hugging himself tight.

His skin was hot to the touch reminding him of the fire in his chest, the clenching of his heart and the already broken pieces of their relationship shattering, yet again, in to thousand pieces. Kurt felt this. Only Kurt.

Kurt let his head roll forward, arms limp, all fight gone, defeated yet again. Another sigh escaped his lips. Kurt felt like laughing. He could feel it bubbling in his throat and soon they were spilling out of his lips. All of this because of a fucking question? It was absurd and Kurt couldn't stop himself because, really, this was just ridiculous.

Sobering up, Kurt finished the salad.

Because Blaine was fine. Irritated or annoyed but fine. Because Kurt knew this didn't count as anything for Blaine. In ten seconds it would all be forgotten, Blaine smiling and reading his book again. This didn't mean shit. Blaine either didn't care or didn't know about Kurt's feelings.

Somewhere along the line Blaine became superior and it was Kurt who helped him get there. He didn't fight back. He kept quiet. Never questioned Blaine and never, _ever_, did he say anything back. Never.

He turned to the sink and started on the dishes. While he washing the last dish he could feel his eyes burning with unshed tears. He clenched his fists, damning himself for being so weak. This was not the time. Really, he was stronger than this. This was nothing.

Kurt felt like dropping everything and running out the door. Running far, _far_, away. Away from New York and away from Blaine. Conflicted. He had grown accustomed to tuning the little voice in his head out throughout the day but the soft whispers had turned into deafening screams now.

Crying those memories out, loud and clear –

The lazy Sunday mornings with his head pressed to Blaine's side while Blaine was trailing kisses down his cheek –

Blaine grapping him from behind, tickling his sides and kissing his neck –

Singing at the top of his lungs, twirling around the living, laughing until his jaws hurt and Blaine right next to him feeling the same –

Their sweaty bodies pressed against each other and the shiver that danced along his body him when he finally came, hot and moaning and so _happy_ because Blaine was _his_ and only–

Stop. Not anymore. They were not the same people.

He closed the tap, dried his hands and walked quietly to the bathroom and locked the door.

With his back against the door he let the tears flow, silent tears, no sounds made, just tears slowly tracing their way down his cheeks. He waited until he couldn't feel the stinging sensation in his eyes anymore and then he grabbed a piece of toilet paper and dried off his cheeks. Slowly, he sat down and waited, staring absently at the wall, listening to the sounds Blaine made as he was setting the table. All forgotten, as he knew it would be. He sat until the redness from his eyes disappeared.

He got up, put on a smile and walked out of the bathroom.

He perseveres because that's who he is now.


End file.
